Okay, I know some folks who didn’t get to make it down to Big D this past weekend are wondering what they missed. Now that I have had some sleep, I will fill ya’ll in.
I am left with a pile of chairs that didn’t survive, way too much cheese, two floating kegs, a buncha used espresso pods, and mattresses in every room big enough to hold one. And incredible gifts! And wonderful memories. And my Butch fort/studio out back now smells sweetly of girl.
Michael came in early and helped me get the backyard ready. I set out over 30 chairs, and couldn’t even imagine the cool peeps from across the continent that would soon be filling them. My Chris was off on airport runs all of Friday, while I had some help preparing the feast. Cressie made 20 pounds of her yummy BBQ brisket dripping with hickory sauce, and we had also had gulf shrimp in garlic, several kinds of gourmet sausages, southern potato salad, baked beans, corn on the cob, queso and chips, rolls, deviled eggs, celery and pimiento, and cherry tomatoes stuffed with chives and cream cheese.
Out back, we had two iced kegs, ice chests full of sodas, and a full bar, marachinos and all. Fisto started making Dirty White Mothers that had a few Femmes hollering before too long. As the drinks got stronger and darker with rum, the name changed to Dirty Motherfuckers, and then …Dirty Assholes. I caught a glimpse of Jetboy rimming his glass. All through the evening, hollerin’ and whoopin’ would rise up as more old friends made it in, and a round of excited hugs would ensue.
A few of our Femme friends had to make an entrance, of course. When Medusa’s flaming red head passed through the French doors, patio furniture suddenly flew off the deck and landed in the bushes. No one was seriously injured. Ivee and PapaC came around the side of the house, with GIRLINA following! Gee was a special surprise guest and even Butches squealed at the sight of her sweet face.
We stayed up as late as everyone could tolerate, laughing, drinkin’, smokin’, talking, listening to everyone’s favorite old songs, dancing, and acting crazy. The vibe on Friday night was YAHOO! A great group hug.
On Saturday, the beautiful Femmes went off to lunch. Left to our own devices, the Butches began devising various evil scenarios as we huddled over our sandwiches on my deck. We thought of doing a panty raid and hanging the girls panties from my awnings, but common sense (and intense fear) prevailed and we elected to get inked together instead. It took the better part of the day for 12 guys to get tats, so our girls pulled up and we all hung out on the gay strip in front of the tattoo parlor. I now have a biggo lobster on my forearm. It’s a SCORPION, dammit. Any fool who squints can clearly see that.
All 30+ of us had Tex-Mex together in a family-owned place, shared an enormous cake, and then rolled on down to the Butch-Femme club for dancing. Our B-F bar has a biggo patio and pool, and as the night progressed much of our party wound up out there, sipping drinks, chatting and laughing. This group could shoot the shit FOR DAYS. So we headed back to my deck and did just that until the wee hours of the morning.
One of Suzi’s favorite things to do in a group is to make people confess their sins. The night owls huddled over citronella candles as we shared our personal stories for hours. We talked about how our child was hurt, how we survived, our regrets and triumphs. It was very, very sweet. Suzi, of course, never confessed. She never does.
On Sunday, Miz Chris got her kitchen wenches together and cooked up over 100 eggs and 15 pounds (!!!) of bacon to feed the troups. We also had refried beans, tortillas, homemade salsa, tamales, and Mexican pastries. WickedSuzi was mingling through the crowd with a steaming plate of crispy pig, softly offering: “Bacon? Bacon?”
We said goodbye to a few beloved friends on Sunday, and others stayed on. Some of the Femmes went for another round of shopping, and the rest of us lazed in the sun on my deck, listening to music and telling tall tales. Gee made my espresso machine do things I never knew it could. Late night talking again. Of course.
You know me n’ my baybee gotta squeeze a five-day weekend out of every event, so Doosa, Michael, and Cressie and Austin were here until just yesterday. We did what we do best – drink too much caffeine, eat yummy stuff, shoot the shit, dish, make fun of ourselves, and laugh like hyenas.
Michael is still camping in my fort out back, and I am fixina go get him to help me hose down the devastation and get my yard back in some order.
Thank you all for being here and for making my 40th and Christine’s 35th so special. The party would not have been the same if any of you weren’t here. I feel so blessed from having each of you in my life.
To those who didn’t make it… you were so missed by everyone!
I will treasure the memory of this birthday weekend always. THIS DADDY’S HEART BURSTS FOR YOU ALL!
Thank you.
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